Witch Doctors Inc: SEASON ONE (Completed!)

Part 6.6

ADDY

"What a loser," Ruby says.

Addy's still smiling, somewhat dreamily. "I like him. He's fun."

"He is fun," Maya agrees. "But there's something off about him. Why would a Sactaphranian prince uproot himself to come live in Zilitron alone? He never talks about his family either. Every time I've asked, he's changed the subject."

They're sprawled on the carpet of a small, candlelit library. Shelves of old books line narrow aisles that can barely accommodate two people at a time. The colour scheme is scarlet and gold, made cosy by shadows and firelight.

"Lots of people don't like to talk about their families," Addy reasons. "Lily never does."

She winces. The mention of her best friend's name, even coming from her own mouth, causes bitter pain to shoot through her heart. She shouldn't have eaten cake and listened to stories while Lily was out there alone.

"Just don't get too attached," Maya warns. "We don't know much about him."

Nodding absent-mindedly, Addy regards the jumble of books in front of her. There's a lot of material to go through, and no one knew where to start. A book of art inspired by the Dark Ages smiles up at her, sandwiched between two books of Dark Ages poetry. Sifting past them, Addy plucks a gold-leafed tome from the fray. Tales of the Dark Witch, the cover whispers. Collated by Intony Weatherstone.

She'd heard of this one. It was an old book, though not as old as the Dark Ages themselves, that had been written off as a mere collection of dark fairytales.

Addy flipped through the book, stopping to read whenever she spotted familiar names.

'The Tale of Snowman's Hill

One of the first supernatural accounts of the Dark Ages concerns a small village near the Kadrean-Tanerian border, and a certain snow-speckled jewel. Snowman's Hill, as it is now called, was originally known as Pyppelton. At the foot of the hill, near the frozen Lake Ayra, lived an elderly gentleman whose name has been lost to time. He was known for his friendliness, and for the parade of snowmen that trailed his front garden.

The gentleman made a meagre living out of cutting and selling the strange stones that bloomed along the edges of Lake Ayra. The jewel was said to have magical powers, though it is not known what these were.

One evening, when winter darkened even the brightest speck of snow, a stranger came to the village tavern seeking the old man and the jewels. She was clad all in black, and her face was hidden under a hood. Even more odd was the fact that she wore no shoes, even in such cold weather. The tavern keeper notices, out of the corner of his eye, that her bare feet scorched the snow. Frightened, he told the stranger everything she wanted to know, and hurried her on her way. Before she left, she reached into her cloak for two silvers to pay him for his trouble. Beyond the fabric, the darkness spun with emeralds.

The next day, the elderly gentleman failed to deliver his usual bag of jewels. When concerned citizens made their way to the foot of the hill, they found his home empty and the jewels in his workshop hacked to pieces. Trails of scorched snow led from his door to Lake Ayra, where the villagers found burn marks around the lake edge.

They searched for the gentleman for days, with no luck. It was on the second day that attention was drawn to the new snowman in his front garden. This one was unlike the others, with their jolly smiles and waving twig arms. Its eyes were frightened, and Lake Ayra jewels dotted its flat smile.'

"Poor man," Addy murmurs.

"You see, this is why I don't trust the government," Ruby says, sidling up next to Addy, her mouth full of loukis. "They always taught us in school that Snowman's Hill was named after that lame festival they throw every year."